and he’s worried about spending three years without Harvey’s, Walmart, and McDonald’s, but fortunately Brad had the advantage of some sessions of familiarization with daily life in Asia given by …”
“Dennis Patterson.”
“Hired by SCI so their employees know the difference between a Shiite, a Sunni, a turban, and a Sikh.”
Max smiled. Some results at last.
“And that’s not all,” Juliette added. “I asked Vandana about IndiaCare.”
“Susan Griffith’s outfit?”
“Who do you suppose she got the idea from? Geneviève, Raymond’s wife.”
Juliette went on to talk about what Vandana called “the budding friendship” between Susan Griffith and Geneviève Bernatchez as the months went by, their common feeling about the unfortunate orphans in this country, their worthy cause taking shape under the benevolent eye of the high commissioner.
Max remembered seeing a photo of Geneviève with Indian babies in her arms on the desk in Bernatchez’s office, but something else about Juliette’s news bothered him, the orphans, more specifically the orphan girls. The little girls Sister Irène had been forced to abandon.
Suddenly, two worlds collided.
“You still there, Max?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The picture was beginning to resolve itself, even if the content didn’t yet add up.
A dam in the heart of Kashmir; the friendship of the woman responsible for the dam and the high commissioner’s wife; an international adoption programme; a journalist, now accidentally killed; and his links to David, though cloudy for the moment.
Three hours later, and Max was in Montreal, in the Labyrinth to be exact. Farther off, at the Mughal Palace stand, the nervous young Indian girl of his first visit had gained experience. No more hesitation and gaffes, and she was heating up the bowls of dal and curry dishes with the skill of a Culinary Academy of India graduate, as well as sliding the papadums and naan bread out of the microwave with the ease of a chef at the Taj Mahal Hotel, all of which tickled the boss as he slicked back his moustache behind the cash. His patience had paid off with a smooth fit.
Max took up his usual post behind the palm tree at the Kon-Tiki, where he’d just spotted Dennis Patterson pushing his and Juliette’s trays along the counter. Their plan had worked, Juliette having called Patterson to talk about David and suggesting this place, a public spot Max knew well. It would be easy to ditch Luc Roberge, if he was over the initial shock and back on the trail with his pack. No need to worry, though. Max had got there an hour ahead of time, and everything was normal.
After they paid, Juliette guided Patterson to a booth for four and sat down.
Then a third party appeared: Max himself. The consultant realized, of course, that he’d been lured into a trap. “Aw c’mon now, don’t be like that,” Max said. “Your food’s getting cold.”
Patterson was ready for the worst, and it showed, so he got out in front of it. “I’m sorry, Max. I had no choice. He forced me …”
“I’ll take care of Roberge some other time. Juliette and I’ve got better things to do, like finding the guys who killed David.”
“I have to understand what happened,” Juliette said.
For an instant, Patterson seemed to be sizing up the situation. Then, as though he’d settled on something, he asked Max, “What exactly do you want to know?”
“The connections between David and Stewart-Cooper International.”
“SCI?”
Juliette told him what she’d found, and Patterson frowned. “Where was the connection with David? I mean, what are you driving at?”
“Terry Hoberman, their communications guy, talked about trouble on the site: bureaucracy, delays from subcontractors, tangled connections with the Indian authorities.”
Patterson sighed.
“Look, don’t come on all righteous and indignant with me, okay? If the company hired you, it wasn’t about delays. No one thinks it was a bed of roses over there. The employees needed to figure out how to muddle through.”
But Patterson was still maintaining radio silence.
“What really happened at Rashidabad?” Max asked.
“Bureaucracy, delays, of course, but mostly threats, acts of intimidation, sabotage.… The Indian Army got called in, but it didn’t help, so the company had to hire private security to protect the workers. Rotten atmosphere, and pretty soon unsustainable. The site was shut down for long periods, and the company’s schedule went to hell. The budget doubled, then tripled, and the place was costing a fortune. The bosses in Hamilton were threatening to pack up and go build that dam somewhere else. In China, for instance, just over the mountain there had to be plenty of rivers like the Jhelum, and a more amenable population.”
“Where’d the violence come from? The jihadists? Hizb-ul-Mujahideen?”
“That’s what the authorities first thought, separatist rebels, who were unhappy that the population was putting aside their demands to court international capital and the promises of jobs with SCI, but that wasn’t it. It was the Hinduists. The extremists weren’t about to let the Muslims — and indirectly Pakistan — benefit from the plant. The dam was built only a few kilometres from the Line of Control. One assault and a surprise attack by the Pakistanis and they’d take control of the central committee and use it for themselves, but instead of caving in, Griffith decided to stand up to the extremists. She went to see the Hinduists at Jammu and confront them. She tried for three days. The hydroelectric installations wouldn’t serve one group more than another, just Indians, period. No exceptions. She was even ready to establish quotas by working with Hindus and Muslims, for instance, verifiable by any and all. She had a commitment from headquarters to correct things as soon as any abuse or omission was pointed out.”
The Hinduists had finally ceased hostilities, a real feat.
“So the violence stopped?”
“Right. They even came in on schedule. Griffith could now go back to Hamilton with her head held high.”
“No wonder the board made her CEO,” Max exclaimed.
Patterson nodded. “Too bad the real war blew it all away, for the time being anyway.”
“So what exactly was in this agreement?”
“You’d have to ask Raymond Bernatchez about that.”
Patterson explained the startup of the central committee at Rashidabad had been planned behind closed doors in the office of the high commissioner, and Griffith wound up in New Delhi from time to time in order to solve some new problem, take care of some new boo-boo.
So, thought Max, she went to the high commissioner’s place and got to know his wife, and the IndiaCare idea came to fruition? Sure, why not? Griffith had played her cards right: make sure you win over Geneviève Bernatchez, so you get the number one of
